


You Can't Always Go Home

by emjgrape



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 08:05:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16114292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emjgrape/pseuds/emjgrape
Summary: Before she goes to bed she hugs him again, but this time tighter. “Promise me” Her warm hand cradles his cheek before brushing a stray strand of hair back into place “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.” She turns his face to look at her “Hm, Jess?”He has to swallow past the lump in his throat, but gives her a small smile “I promise, Momma.”





	You Can't Always Go Home

“Hey, Jess” his mother starts as she walks into the dimly lit kitchen. She had to work another shift after someone bailed, and she looked it. She was running on three hours of sleep and who knows how many pots of coffee.

Jesse had fixed some soup when he had expected her home, hours earlier. She hugged him from where he stood over the stove. The smell of fried food clung to her worn clothes and what was left of her makeup smudged onto Jesse’s shirt. 

“Soup’s almost warm” he hugged her back from the side while stirring the pot. This week had been just like the last three. His mother had worked so much overtime that she didn’t have enough time to come home in between shifts. With the nearly hour-long drive from town back home, it was easier for her to just nap for an hour instead, either in the back room or her truck. 

“Where’ve you been, Jess?” her voice muffled in Jesse’s shoulder. Concern clear in her voice, but heavy in exhaustion. “Why ain’t you been at school?” Even though she was from northern California, she had picked up an accent much like Jesse’s own that only got thicker as the night went on. 

“I’ve been doing my school work. Just been a little busy s’all. Got a job cleanin’ up at the barn.” Trying to dodge the line of fire that this conversation would turn into, he moves to grab a bowl. “Got bills to pay. Figured I’d help you out.”

“Bullshit, Jesse McCree” if she was trying to sound intimidating, Jesse could only hear the concern more clearly now that she had stepped back to lean on the counter and fold her arms over her wrinkled apron. “I am your mother, now don’t you lie to me. I know you’ve been doing things you ain’t supposed to.”

Jesse sets the bowl down onto the kitchen table and sighs in defeat “I just… I gotta help you out somehow. It ain’t fair for you to have to-”

“You ain’t gotta do shit, Jesse.” She seems so much older in the soft kitchen lighting now that Jesse has looked at her. The gray strands blend in with the rest of her blonde hair, but the bags under her eyes make her face much paler. “All I want is for you to be safe, go to school, graduate” her voice waivers, “Hell make somethin’ of yourself.” She wipes at her watery eyes as if to save her already smudged mascara, “I don't want you to end up like this,” She tugs on the strings of her stained apron, “Or worse, like your father.” She lets out a breathy laugh, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

Jesse pulls a seat out from the table for her “You should eat.” he mumbles, trying to move on from the conversation.

Before she goes to bed she hugs him again, but this time tighter. “Promise me” Her warm hand cradles his cheek before brushing a stray strand of hair back into place “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.” She turns his face to look at her “Hm, Jess?”

He has to swallow past the lump in his throat, but gives her a small smile “I promise, Momma.”

 

\---

 

When Jesse wakes up the first thing he registers is the fire spreading throughout his body. Every breath of stale air makes his lungs rattle. The feeling of broken ribs is a feeling he's all too familiar with. Maybe if he’s lucky they’re only bruised and he’s just feeling a bit overdramatic today, but typically the universe does not work in his favor. So least to say he’s probably the proud owner of a punctured lung, and hell let’s throw in some internal bleeding just for shits and giggles. 

The thick stench of blood does nothing to help the nausea that settles in the pit of his stomach. He tries to sit up, but when the pain digs its way further into his chest he thinks that maybe laying down isn’t such a bad idea. If it means that his insides will stay where they’re supposed to be, then he’ll just chill on the floor for a while longer.

He focuses on taking steady breaths to calm himself. At best, he's just wheezing and trying to suppress the bile rising in his throat. He needs to have a level head to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve him dying in a shack in the middle of this godforsaken desert.

He looks around. When his head stops spinning, he can’t see much. Through the open door, the setting sun allows just enough orange light to illuminate the bloodbath he’s currently lying in. The dirt floor has soaked up the majority of blood, leaving the ground beneath him a soggy mess that he’s sure is never coming out of his hair. 

In the far corner, where the dim light can’t quite reach, someone or something is standing. No, not standing, hanging from a beam in the ceiling. He has to blink through the sweat in his eyes to see the face. 

Then it all comes back to him.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so to clarify in the first part Jesse is about around 17 and the second part around 25 or something he's probably in blackwatch sorry it wasn't clear but there is a gap in his age. this is just a little thing i wrote instead of working on my engligh paper i don't really know where it's going but if you are interested in finding out what happens let me know ?


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